This is my revised answer to any and all questions asked of me. It is an answer not caught up in the unnecessary complexity’s we impose on existence.
There are six streams of water in the center circle of my shower head, it is surrounded by twelve further streams, and around that are an additional eighteen. I imagine myself to look as a tiger while the streams spread the hairs on my chest. Counting silences the mind. There must be people out there who do this as hobby. Insomniacs. Those who think too much.
Insomniacs lay in bed and wonder deep into the night about reality. Planning there next courses of action, questioning actions taken as so far. I dream late into the morning, so late because the worlds I crate for myself can seem so intriguing, complex and compassionate. I get caught in dreams and languish lumbering out of bed.
I spend hours trying to remember… remember how I felt, and why I feel as I do upon awakening. Sometimes I am overjoyed, and have no idea why. This slinks into sadness. “Is my joy is rooted in another one of my fictional creations?” They are mine so in hind sight I see no reason to lament. It can be frustrating to forget… one can’t turn their reality into what they can’t remember.